cursed souls and dead hearts
by The Crownless Queen
Summary: In which the Black are cursed, and it changes nothing. For Sophie.


This is for Sophie - I've had this idea of the Blacks being under a curse for a while now… I think I like it. I hope you do too. Merry Christmas (even if it's a little late)!

Please leave a review on your way out to let me know what you thought of this.

_Word count:_ 1848

**cursed souls and dead hearts**

There is a secret – a legend, really – that all Blacks know from the moment they're old enough to understand speech (and if they're not born in the family, they learn it the moment they are welcomed into it).

It goes like this…

Thousands of years ago, before Hogwarts was founded, before there even was a real magical society, people say that wizards answered to their Families, and each Family answered for their people to the creature who had blessed them.

The Blacks were said to have been Demon's kin, and Demons weren't kind to those who betrayed them. No one could remember who had done the deed, but someone had, the stories said. Someone had, and their blessing had been turned into a curse.

Blacks died young, or they died mad, and in some cases they even died bloody.

**.x.**

One of Sirius' first memories is of his mother, wand in hand, giving life for just a moment to painted figures in his room, weaving a tale of betrayal and revenge on his walls that ended by a soft declaration he hadn't understood then and had later come to doubt had ever happened.

"_We pledge our lives to the Dark in the hope we'll be forgiven for our ancestors' faults. One day it will be your turn, and I know you will make your Family proud, Sirius."_

It's not the only time he hears that story, but each person telling it adds their own twist, until Sirius turns nine and decides it's just a myth, some horror story the adults use to keep their children in line.

The day he tells this to his mother is the day she snaps – sure, she had never hidden her disappointment in having such a 'soft' son for Heir, but she had also never stopped trying to change him, no matter how unwelcome it was.

He knows he did something she won't forgive him for when she doesn't even try to reach for her wand and instead just slap him.

He can't quite bring himself to care – his mother is never happy with him, but at least this way he knows why, and it's through his own choices.

_(that, and that legend is just ridiculous… he would know it if he was cursed.)_

**.x.**

In Regulus' mind, there has never been any doubt that his family is cursed. He sees it in the way none of them never seem to be truly happy, in the way anger and hatred always lie beneath the surface in everything they do, like they're unable to ever feel anything fully if it doesn't bring pain to someone else.

It's particularly obvious in some people – his cousin Bellatrix, for one, and his mother for another – but in others it's sometime more insidious, seemingly absent until you catch something from the corner of your eye and spend the rest of your life wondering if you ever truly saw anything.

Regulus is pretty sure his brother belongs to that second group. He can't really be sure, but there are times when he feels like his brother has to put much more effort into appearing normal than everyone else does, and when he's dealing with people he truly dislikes, well that 'nice façade' of his cracks just a little.

So it's for Sirius – for his brother everyone says is too soft, and the uncle who always gave them the best advice but died 'in his sleep' last year – and for everyone in their family, because none of them truly deserve this fate they've been cursed with, that Regulus has decided he will be the one to find a way out of it.

He half loses himself in the Family library, digging into magic even darker than everything he ever thought possible, and somehow while he comes closer to what he looked for, he also loses everything he fought for.

Sirius leaves and their mother goes mad, and a true Dark Lord rises.

Regulus thinks of hours spent poring on dusty books, of how alive he felt casting the darkest spells he could find, and thinks, why not?

As it turns out, he's really not that good at making decisions on the fly. Well, at least he has a nice tattoo to show for it.

**.x.**

Bellatrix just doesn't care for their family so-called curse. Whether it exists or not, she thinks she would make the same choices, because nothing makes her blood sing in her veins quite as beautifully as other people's screams.

She knows her sisters disagree. Narcissa refuses to hear any word of what she calls a 'silly story', and Andromeda, somewhat like their younger cousin Sirius, believes that the best way to break the curse, if a curse there truly is, is to ignore it and follow a path as far away from what their family preaches as possible.

Her sisters might try to hide it all they want though, but Bellatrix knows better. She can still remember the way Narcissa crept into her older sister's bedrooms to seek reassurances that no one had actually seen evidence of any curse, and Andromeda's little speeches about righteous choices only fooled the witch herself.

Her sisters might not want to believe in a curse, but they do anyway, and it scares them to know that a part of their lives may forever be out of their hands.

They don't understand the beauty of giving your life to a greater cause than just the life others painted for you – it's a pity, but Bellatrix thinks they never might.

But she does understand, and she swore her life to a man so wonderful he might as well be her god, and she'll get the last laugh.

Why would she care for a curse when her life isn't even her own to give anymore?

**.x.**

The thing is, no one really knows what the curse on the Black family was, or indeed, if there ever had been a curse in the first place. The truth has been lost to time generations ago, and only whispers of some greater force at work in the demise of the Blacks remain nowadays.

If anything was ever written on it, those words have been lost to time, and many regard this as just some scary story.

Until something happens that makes them believe.

**.x.**

Sirius meets James, and he meets Remus, and they rescue Peter from the 'evil Slytherins', and suddenly he has a family he finds he can really love. He thinks that maybe he should feel something other than disdain for the people he grew up with, but he can't. They're all so stuck in their ways, too lost in the Dark to ever even see the beauty of the Light, so he lets go of them.

It doesn't even hurt, and even if it had, the smiles and warmth from the family he's chosen more than make up for it.

Until his new life comes crumbling down on him _(Peter is a traitor and James is dead and Peter is a traitor and he has to give Harry away)_.

They find him surrounded by bodies in a destroyed street, and Peter – small, innocent Peter, who was so quiet and so goddamn nice – sneaked away, leaving tattered robes and a bloody finger behind, his accusing words still hanging in the open air.

So yes, he laughs, because why can't anyone else see how funny this is, how ironic it is that he thought himself past all risks only to lose it all the next day, to Peter of all people? He's laughing because he can't cry, because he can't grieve as long as the one responsible for his pain is alive, and no one understands.

It's not until he's in Azkaban, cold and fear creeping into his very bones, that he remembers his mother's words.

She lied though, or maybe she just didn't know. They're not cursed. _He_ is.

**.x.**

The Dark Lord made Horcruxes. How could Regulus have been such a fool as to believe following this man could be right?

How could he get everything so wrong? Regulus would have thought that anyone who knew of those horrid creations also knew that nothing could balance the horrors it did to your psyche, but apparently it is not so.

Voldemort was supposed to be their Savior, bringing the Dark Families back to their former glories. But he couldn't, not now, not ever, not if he had lost himself to such despicable acts as Horcruxes. And he had, there could be no doubt about that – for sacrificing parts of his soul to escape death meant that he also had to sacrifice parts of who he was.

Already Regulus could see it – the man who no longer a man, and for all his claims of greatness, all the young Black could see was madness, an illness that would surely lead them all to their deaths, their Lord dooming with him all his followers without qualms.

He hated it, because for all that he had joined this cause willingly, he could not abide by its new goals. Utter ruin had never been among his wishes, and he would do everything he could to stop it.

He went to his death cursing himself for ever believing it would end any other way, and as cold hands dragged him under he hoped that the rest of his family would have better luck than he did.

He doubted it though.

**.x.**

Bellatrix thinks that if there ever was a curse on her family or her person, for her it manifested when the Dark Lord disappeared _(not died, never that)._ It seems like He took a piece of her world with Him, and she will do whatever it takes to get it – get Him – back.

Those Light fools are useless – they're either lying or they simply know nothing, but either way they will not tell her what she wants to know. They do scream prettily enough though, and to see all semblance of sanity leaving their eyes is almost enough to make up for the affront of them not giving her a clear answer.

But she's her Master most trusted, most loyal servant. She won't give up. If His enemies out there won't tell her what she wants to know, she'll seek her answers elsewhere, and when He comes back, He'll be able to see that she never betrayed Him.

Azkaban and Dementors are nothing next to the devotion she bears for her Lord. They can't touch her.

They can't.

They…

(the madness creeps in so slowly she never notices it – but perhaps it had always been there anyway)

Some days, when the Dementors don't come, she remembers her sisters. She only wishes she could still remember His face too.

**.x.**

There is a secret – a legend, really – that no one really cares enough to take seriously until it is already too late.

All Blacks are cursed. It's written on their bones, it sleeps in their blood, and it never, never ends well for them.


End file.
